


Times That Yuuri Said "No"

by transkhoshekh



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Communication, Gender Dysphoria, Intimacy, M/M, Post-Canon, Trans Male Character, Trans Male Katsuki Yuuri, Trans People In Happy Relationships, Viktor spelled with a 'k', mlm author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 17:21:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11536869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transkhoshekh/pseuds/transkhoshekh
Summary: Just a collection of times where Yuuri's dysphoria got in the way of sex, but not in the way of intimacy.*It's completely possible that this could be Mature and not Explicit, but I'd rather go up a level than down.*





	Times That Yuuri Said "No"

**Author's Note:**

> this is kind of something i wrote for myself, based on my own dysphoria and anxieties and how they effect my sexuality and libido.

Viktor’s hand skirted under the hem of Yuuri’s shirt and he grinned at the touch; his husband’s fingers not shying away from the soft parts of him that he was once so afraid of never ceased to make his heart burst with affection. These days, when Viktor’s hands traced the uneven skin of his stretch-marked stomach, Yuuri couldn’t imagine anywhere else he would rather be, or anyone else he would rather be with.

He was still working on not imagining a body he would rather be in.

Viktor’s hands climbed a little higher, rubbing circles softly as he slowly moved beyond Yuuri’s belly button, the intervals between kisses growing as he got more distracted, focus shifting to a different part of Yuuri’s body.

Yuuri’s inhale caught in his throat when Viktor’s fingertips graced the edge of his binder, and Viktor met his eyes in a quiet question. Gasps were hardly words, and reacting to touch could mean about a thousand different things.

Yuuri squirmed a little, resituating but not recoiling, and then gently pushed Viktor’s hand away from his chest, back onto the safety of his stomach, whispering, “Not tonight, okay?”

Viktor smiled at him so tenderly you’d think Yuuri had revealed the meaning of life for him right there in their bedroom, or at least said something complimentary. He pulled back even more, fingers leaving his husband’s skin completely (to Yuuri’s momentary dismay) for another moment before he pushed his legs out and leaned his whole body in, resting his head on Yuuri’s lap and closing his eyes. “All I want is to be with you, sunshine.”

* * *

 

  
They sat together in the hot spring, bodies close. Yuuri hated feeling this exposed, but he wanted so desperately to be able to be comfortable with himself, even if it was just for a fleeting moment. This had been his own idea - Viktor seemed skeptical, worried that Yuuri was just upsetting himself, but his bright-eyed husband had insisted.

Usually in the onsen, he wore a sports bra that was almost exactly the color of his skin, and since he was (luckily) not very busty in the first place, it made his torso approximate a cis man’s unless you squinted. He'd also found that people tried not to look farther south, so that was less of a problem once he was safely under the water, cloudy with steam as it could be.

But last night, Yuuri told Viktor he wanted to try actually being bare in the hot springs, for once. Ever since he had started feeling like he could be a beautiful man - a man with _Eros_ \- he’d wondered where the limits to it were. Could he feel good with no barriers between his skin and the rest of, virtually, the entire universe?

His chest felt so defenseless, even though the onsen was closed for the night and it was just him and Viktor, basically alone, save for the possibility of his family members roaming around the shared house.

He felt irrational. Viktor didn’t understand that, couldn’t - he didn’t have to deal with such deformities. His body was flat where it was supposed to be, and his Yuuri had these lumps of flesh that no amount of diet or exercise would make go away.

Viktor’s arm rested around Yuuri’s shoulder, reaching up to curl in his wet hair absently while he rested against Yuuri’s side. They weren’t filling the air with idle chit-chat; somehow there seemed to be an agreement that just skin on skin was enough.

Viktor whispered softly, “Handsome. I love you Yuuri. I love how you will look in the future, I love how you look right now. I love every bit of yourself that you want to share.”

Yuuri melted in his arms, a small sigh of contentment being drawn out of him by his husband’s gentle reassurances.

“I know it doesn’t make things perfect, but I do hope you can believe me, my love.”

Yuuri’s eyes slid shut in agreement. Nothing would be as easy as a simple pep talk. But he’d learned from he and Viktor’s first season together that vulnerability could be a powerful way to get through your anxiety.

“How are you feeling, Yuuri?”

“Sweatier than I want to be. A little...nervous. You?”

Viktor smiled, giving Yuuri’s shoulders a little squeeze before saying, “I’m still just feeling really lucky to have such a handsome husband.”

Yuuri smiled even more, registering the compliment and murmuring a soft, “I feel the same thing every day.” He tried to be mindful and untense his muscles individually while he leaned against Viktor’s chest. This was his husband.

Viktor’s hands moved from Yuuri’s hair to the outside of his shoulder, tracing a damp path down the top of his bicep, and he asked very matter-of-factly, “Can I move a little lower?”

“Viktor! We can’t do that in public!”

Now it was Viktor’s turn to blush as he ran to explain himself, “Yuuri, God! I didn’t mean I wanted to _grope you_ or something. I just wanted you to feel like...there was nothing in the way, you know? Like I could touch you as if you didn’t have boobs." 

Yuuri wished, for the millionth time in his life, that there was a word for his chest that didn't make him cringe a little bit. Boobs sounded so silly, breasts sounded too clinical, tits sounded like something men who call women “females” say. Personally, Yuuri had taken to referring to his chest as lumps or growths whenever possible, but that wasn’t really the nicest way to talk about your husband’s body. 

Despite the internal tangent on wording, Yuuri relaxed, understanding, leaning back into his husband. He didn’t want to be touched that way, but he took Viktor’s words to heart - he was here to try to pretend his chest was normal, okay. Something he could live in, just as Viktor lived in his body (and Yuuri knew, in a more rational part of his brain, that living in his body wasn’t always easy for his husband, either). He stopped hunching over and positioned himself in a way that made his top half a little more exposed, the extra fat on his chest spreading out more evenly across his rib cage.

“Just hold my hand, okay, Vitya?”

 

* * *

 

 

Viktor’s weight on top of him was always such a comfort, but he could never help but feel like his body was lacking when his husband’s full weight was lined up with his.

He wanted to be able to ignore it. He wanted to be able to feel as attractive as the man Viktor saw, because he _knew_ that his husband was honest in his affections. In so many ways, Viktor had helped him find the courage to explore himself - his Eros. But Viktor didn’t change Yuuri, didn’t add anything that wasn’t there already - he simply gave him the support to fit the pieces of the puzzle into place.  Yuuri still had to bridge the gaps, to take those extra steps, to learn how to appreciate his lover’s eyes on him when they were off the ice.

Their kisses were soft and lazy, arms loosely draped around each other’s bodies. Yuuri was cushioned against the fluffy mass of throw pillows on their couch, propped up so he wasn’t quite sitting up or completely horizontal, with Viktor in his lap, his feet settling past Yuuri’s hips.

Yuuri reached up tentatively, bringing his hand away from it’s place on Viktor’s side and lacing his fingers together with the palm that already rested on his cheek. Their hands felt so right together - he could feel Viktor smile against his lips in an unspoken agreement of a similar sentiment, and the response made his body hum with contentment.

He gently pulled his husband’s hand down closer to his midsection, letting their joined digits lean against his thigh.

Viktor broke the kiss and Yuuri’s face caught fire. How could he ask for that? Why would Viktor ever want to touch him, when his body was the way -

Viktor cut off his train of thought by spreading his fingers across Yuuri’s thighs and squeezing, prompting a soft squeak from Yuuri as his thoughts returned to what was in front of him. His beautiful husband - who was now leaning forward to press a peck to Yuuri’s cheek in gentle reassurance.

“Tell me what you want, Yuuri,” he said calmly, without any sort of expectations attached to his tone.

Yuuri’s mind somehow went blank and raced all at once, short-circuiting his thoughts for a moment. He wanted Viktor to touch him. He wanted to _feel_ touchable. He wanted to be comfortable with asking for Viktor’s hands to explore, even though he felt like he was so deeply ill-equipped for it. He wanted Viktor to make him feel good, he always wanted that, wanted Viktor inside of him. But some days it just felt so wrong. He should be like the man in front of him now - he should have a bulge tenting out his shorts, noticeable  with his barely-covered skin. Languid kisses and a hot husband shouldn’t be producing this wetness in his briefs; he wanted to be hard, straining. Like Viktor.

Viktor’s eyes were on him, prompting an answer.

“Uh...I…"

“Do you want me to finger you, sunshine?”

Yuuri buried his face in the crook of Viktor’s neck with a bubbly giggle. He had so much trouble with those words, this body. His bashfulness wasn’t nearly as bad when he was talking about Viktor - he could say dick and cum to Phichit, and listen to his friend talk likewise about his own boyfriends. But his junk was different. It felt so strange that his husband could just say these things out loud, never treating Yuuri’s body as something that had to be worked around, or dealt with.

Yuuri breathed in deeply, trying to smell Viktor’s familiar lemon-shampoo-tang. He put his hand back over Viktor’s, which was still resting on his thigh. “Can you just keep it here, maybe?”

He was pulled into a hug in response.

 

* * *

 

They missed each other when they were apart. Yuuri was thankful that Skype existed, and it was really beyond  him that couples ever lasted when all they had was handwritten letters.

Their call had gotten flirty - Yuuri’s playful gripes about how Viktor was so much better to cuddle with because Makkachin stole the blankets turned less than gracefully into innuendo, even though some of that transition consisted of Yuuri groaning dramatically through Viktor saying things like, “Are you a chicken? Cause you look impeccable!” and, “Is your body McDonalds? Cause I’m loving it!”

Viktor’s eyes sparkled and Yuuri smiled, a small blush dusting his cheeks. They had done this before - competitions pulled them away from each other, and this was a different way of having fun. It wasn’t the same as showing his love to the whole of Russia, but both men felt close and giddy, happy that even with distance there were ways to not feel so apart.

“Yuuri...can I see?”

Yuuri always tried to get to a point where his desire outweighed his embarrassment; if he could be swept away by his arousal, the anxious pangs of self-doubt would sometimes completely disappear. Currently, their setup was Viktor completely undressed, shitty hotel lighting making his skin shine in a way that hurt Yuuri’s eyes a little bit, and Yuuri in his underwear, hands disappearing under fabric while he leaned back into the mountain of pillows that he had brought into the bedroom.

Yuuri felt giddy, silly, but like he was just barely there, like he could still fall back into nervousness if he pushed himself too hard. He wanted to hold onto it.

“When you get home…” He trailed off, pulling the waistband of his boxer shorts down and letting them snap back up to his waist in what he hoped at least approximated suggestive, but in reality probably just seemed like fidgeting. Hoping to convey his meaning, he kept going - now blowing an exaggerated kiss for good measure.

Viktor returned the affection by an equally -exaggerated motion of reaching out, grabbing the kiss, and eating it, much to Yuuri’s amusement.

His body felt lighter. He never thought loving someone could be this soft.

He loved his husband so much.

“Do you want to stop?” Viktor asked, sitting up a little straighter and bracing his palms on the floor in front of him.

Yuuri blushed; he didn’t want to stop. Not completely at least, not with his beautiful husband looking so inviting in front of him.

He swallowed the knot in his throat, and said, as boldly as he could, “Maybe I can just help you out?”

* * *

 

  
After his surgery, Viktor was the most attentive husband on earth. Yuuri knew it was annoying to have to care for someone so completely incapacitated (and he wasn’t being self-deprecating - he took care of Phichit when he got top surgery. It kind of sucks, even when you love someone.), but Viktor offered everything - tea, movies, back rubs, company, one sided charades, dramatic reenactments of classic Russian novels that Yuuri had not read. He even offered to let Yuuri pee in a bottle so he wouldn’t have to get out of bed and stress his muscles, an idea Yuuri was not a big fan of. Still, Viktor’s uncanny ability to bring levity was pretty vital when you’d just been cut open.

One the second week post OP, they were lying together watching Disney movies, when Viktor, in his normal manner, bluntly asked Yuuri, “Do you think it would make you feel a little more relaxed if you had an orgasm?”

Yuuri’s ability to express himself and be comfortable around Viktor had improved so much in the time that they had been together, but when Viktor was so straightforward, he couldn’t help but feel the embarrassment claw up his chest as a blush and a giggle, his limbs automatically wanting to pull inwards. But in his current state, with the tenderness of his chest making it difficult to flinch or shift or move much at all, he had to let his body _be_ , let his nerves be exposed. It wasn’t as scary anymore - his body still reacted, but he trusted Viktor with the world.

Yuuri breathed slowly, chewing over Viktor’s offer while he realized Viktor’s eyes were on him; gentle, sincere, always wanting to help. He was in a loveseat scooted to the edge of the couch (being on different pieces of furniture helped him to not accidentally jostle Yuuri), which put him near Yuuri’s blanketed shins.

Yuuri couldn’t move great without it hurting, he was still too tender. He could still barely lift his arms. He could try to hold still, to not flex or wiggle, but it probably wouldn’t work, and then he would just be sore and maybe bruised.  And he really, really didn’t want to tell his doctor he burst his stitches because he hadn’t waited long enough to go back to having his husband’s hand in his pants.

In the absence of movement, all he had were words, so he reached out, softly, and said, “Can I have an IOU?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is gaykatsukiyuuri, say hi


End file.
